Shoot To Kill
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: AU. A messy explosion killing a man results in Detectives Reese and Crews being called onto the scene, but the Dursley family are hiding many more secrets then even the Detectives are betting on. Just who is James Evans and what is his connection to Roman Neviakov?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**

Shoot to Kill

**Author**

Sar'Kalu

Summary

_AU. A messy explosion killing a man results in Detectives Reese and Crews being called onto the scene, but the Dursley family are hiding many more secrets then even the Detectives are betting on. Just who is James Evans and what is his connection to Roman Neviakov?_

Rating

Rated T: mild language, some sexual content, mild violence.

Disclaimer

_Harry Potter_ is the intellectual property of J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Books and Warner Brothers Entertainment and their various affiliations; _Life_ is the Intellectual property of the N.B.C and their affiliates; no monetary gain is received in the publishing of this fiction.

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Chapter One

All-American Dreaming

The first they heard of the new case was an explosion in suburbia. The house, a white weatherboard nineteen fifties duplex, was smouldering when they got there. Foul play was suspected, which was why Crews and Reese were called in. The wife was fluttering uselessly outside, gabbling about a 'Vernon', her English accent making it that much harder to get a statement. Her son was in a nearby patrol car having gotten violent when assertions were made that the husband couldn't have survived the blast. The red eyes and dopy expression were what one might find on a druggie. Reese was unimpressed by the whole deal, her frustrated yelling at forensics as they hauled out their dead guy in a black body bag further traumatising the family. Crews ran long fingers along the taut skin of his apple but didn't take a bite when even Bobby Stark shot him an incredulous look. Eating at a crime scene smelling of barbecue was not a good look, even for an ex-con.

Eventually the story came out, the wife, Petunia, had been at the local Walmart shopping for a cocktail dress for the evenings do with her husband, Vernon. Dudley, the son, had been down the road smoking a joint with the local street gang and telling tall tales about his life in England where he was purportedly the biggest gun-toting gang leader in Surrey. Considering that most English thought that their American cousins couldn't tell you where Surrey was, Dudley had felt that it was a safe 'brag'. It was now getting him in a lot of trouble. Vernon had apparently been drinking scotch while watching the football, European football not American, while waiting for their nephew to come home. Apparently the nephew had been caught sneaking out after dark and was restricted to a six p.m. curfew each night.

All in all the family seemed the usual all-white, all 'American' family that you would expect from the suburbs. Reese couldn't care less and she was quick to snap up the investigation while Crews watched the wife and the son interact, their soft whispers about the 'freaky' nephew indicating a far darker secret hidden beneath plain sight. Further inquiries led to the revelation that the son and nephew were sixteen and that the family had moved to L.A not five months ago but had already integrated themselves into the neighbourhood. The wife, Petunia, apparently very good at getting people to spill their darkest secrets; if gossip was anything to go by and more than one neighbour commented on the nephews apparent vagrancy. Reese frowned at the comments, not one of the people they had interviewed had stated anything about Dudley being the vagrant, no it was all this 'Evans' character. Crews' thoughts were dragged from dark to darker as he listened to each neighbour complain about petty things about Evans, not one had a single good thing to say about the boy and Crews was reminded all too forcefully of his time in prison where the guards had preconceived notions about the 'cop killer convict'. It sounded as though Evans was in a similar boat.

Eventually directions were asked to Evans' day job, a scrap yard a few blocks away. Thanking the kindly older woman, Crews and Reese ducked into their car and pulled out. This case was turning stranger and stranger, first Vernon was blown sky high and then the nephew, Evans, was labelled as psychopathic and dangerous. Reese didn't know what to think and Crews wasn't talking of his suspicions, his light grey-blue eyes never once making contact with the dark brown orbs of his partner. Crews had no real evidence to back up his gut instinct and Reese wasn't exactly enamoured with him at the moment after his 'switch-a-roo' with Roman Neviakov six weeks ago. No, better play this one close to the chest, Crews thought darkly.

Pulling into the scrap yard, Crews unfolded himself from the car and followed Reese into the Site Managers office. The pale blue walls and plastic furniture made the entire office look cheap and nasty but the big beefy man dressed in a stained white shirt and ragged jeans hardly seemed to mind. His moon shaped face split into a hairy grin and bright blue eyes beamed from behind fragile looking reading glasses.

"Hello!" He greeted Reese enthusiastically, "names Hank Goddard. What can I do for you today, Detectives?"

Reese was taken aback, it wasn't every day you found jolly men in god-awful jobs and this one was jollier than most. She smiled stiffly. "We're looking for a Mr Evans?"

The Site Manager's eyebrows climbed skyward in surprise, "you want James?" He asked. "Why?"

Crews smiled slightly at the Manager's protectiveness for his men, suspecting that the hard questions were nothing more than concern and care for the men who worked under him. Whatever Evans' had done to earn such solidarity and friendship was enough to put him in Charlie Crews' good books. "We just want to speak to him." Crews soothed the bristling man.

Hank subsided under the weight of Crews' calming gaze and nodded. "Right; you better follow me then, James is a wily boy, gets himself into the strangest places."

Reese shot Crews an appreciative glance and at Goddard's words, turned to him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"James doesn't like strangers; he's a bit jumpy. You know?" Hank explained looking more at Crews than Reese, having taken a shine to the red haired man. Reese hummed lightly, the words not taking on the darker meaning in her mind like they did in Crews'. Something was definitely not right.

Evans turned out to be a skinny kid with a shock of wild black hair and black plastic glasses. Wearing the same jeans and t-shit combo that his colleagues sported, James Evans looked every bit the blue-collar worker as he sat on a metal drum surrounded by his work mates, his feet hanging off the sides and barely brushing the ground. Hank strode towards his men; a bright grin on his face that Reese suspected was his natural expression as he waved to yet another overly friendly worker. Evans was fiddling with his shirt as he listened to one of his friends expound some point or other, a small smile twisting the corner of his mouth. Evans looked nothing like his cousin or aunt and Reese wondered where the family resemblance laid.

"James!" Hank hailed his favourite worker with a loud bellow, waving a meaty arm in the air wafting the smell of fresh and stale sweat to the two detectives. Reese wrinkled her nose in disgust while Crews was unperturbed.

Evans looked up at his boss, a shy smile breaking out before he caught sight of the two detectives beside the Site Manager. Crews watched as the kid took on 'rabbit in the head lights' expression and tensed in fright. Crews sighed at the sight, if he'd had any doubts about the kids treatment at the hands of his family, they'd now just been dispelled; even Reese was watching the kid in a curious sort of pity, her expression strangely compassionate for the fiery-tempered detective.

"Reese?"

"Yeah, Crews?"

"He's going to run," Crews predicted.

Hank turned to the detectives in surprise. "Why would James run?" Hank dismissed the idea even as he returned his gaze to the jumpy teen. "He's a good kid-"

Crews bolted the same moment that Evans did, both long-legged men clearing the metal drums behind the lounging workers in the same time it took for Hank Goddard to finish his second sentence. Reese cursed and spun around, taking an alternative route towards the car and firing up the engine. Throwing the cruiser into reverse, Reese spun the wheel and shot down the road, knowing that the kid would head to higher ground. Eyes intent on the road, Reese almost missed the kid clearing a tree and flinging himself across the road directly in her path. Spinning the car, Reese flung her door open and clipped the kids' right leg, sending the willowy teen to the ground. Crews was on Evans in less time it took Reese to cut the engine barely puffing from his jaunt through the scrubby park behind the scrap yard.

Rolling her eyes, Reese tugged the rear door open and Crews shoved the kid inside having discovered extensive bruising on the kid's ribs and back. The amount of scarring on Evans was more than indicative of the treatment he received at home and Crews was more than looking forward to sinking his teeth into Petunia and Dudley back at the station. The ride back to the L.A.P.D was spent in silence much to Reese's chagrin as she tried to entice her partner into answering just what had got him so coldly silent. Reese didn't appreciate being left in the dark about things that might affect their cases.

Crews was quick to exit the cruiser and pulled the teen with him, the skinny kid was his height but half his weight and Reese began to muster her own suspicions about the boy and his home life. Dark eyes watching her partner and the teen interact with Crews mostly going on about Zen and fruit. The kid looked like he was keeping up and even managing to put in his two cents worth all the while staring around him desperately in an attempt to find somewhere, anywhere to escape to. Crews was quick to kill that thought though as they strode through the bull pen and tossed the kid into Interrogation Room One to cool down.

Tidwell watched his two best detectives hold a short discussion outside the room where their suspect had just been stowed away like an afterthought. This case of theirs was pretty cut and dried, the wife had admitted to leaving the stove on while the son had admitted to lighting up a cigarette in his room before sneaking out and accidentally leaving it on. It was all circumstantial and more than a little suspect but no one had managed to find out anything more. But there were Crews and Danni- Detective Reese, arguing about the kid who Tidwell suspected was the missing nephew that Petunia was hysterically trying to find. Just what the duo had found out, Tidwell was uncertain, but was about to find out as they headed to the debriefing room with a stack of photos and papers. Looked like he was about to be briefed about everything.

Crews was leaning against the walls of the room and ignoring Reese who was still glaring at him, angry that he'd not told her about his suspicions back at the explosion site. Tidwell was watching them both with nervous eyes, clearly not willing to step in between yet another spat of theirs.

"Well, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or do I have to guess?" Tidwell demanded finally fed up with Danni sending Crews the stink eye. "What the hell is going on with this case? I've had Seever and Stark both tell me that you both ducked off in the middle of an investigation, you then turn up with a ratty arsed kid who looks like he's been dragged backwards through a fucking bush and now you're not talking to each other? Just what the hell has happened the past few hours?"

Crews shot the Captain a Look and Tidwell blinked. Crews looked… angry as hell. Like someone had murdered his puppy. In front of him. And possibly tortured it too. Tidwell winced; someone was gonna die and he would have to write up yet another report about Crews that make the crazy redhead seem slightly saner than he actually was.

"Crews thinks that the kids been abused," Reese said flatly still glaring at her partner.

Crews shot Reese a dark look of his own before ducking from the room with a blank expression apple in hand. Stark stuck his head in and looked as if he was about to question the phenomenon when Reese snarled a vile curse. Paling rapidly, both Tidwell and Stark swiftly vacated the premises and holed up in Tidwell's office. It was rare that the duo was out of synch but it did happen and it seemed to be happening more and more often. Reese had actually broken up with Tidwell over it, apparently feeling as though the Captain was taking Crews' side on everything. Only Seever seemed to break through the strange fugue that Reese and Crews had going on between them and Seever only managed that simply because Reese and Crews both agreed that the younger officer would make an amazing mayor. One of the few things they could agree on these days.

It took them nearly an hour but both Crews and Reese managed to cool down enough to interrogate the nervous kid. Evans was bouncing in his seat with the kind of energy you found in marines before they hit the road; it was the kind of energy that never let a person sit still for long and Crews was a bit surprised to see it in a teen. Even with Evans' suspected upbringing. Reese took the seat across from Evans as per their usual tactics and eyeballed the teen trying to throw him off guard. The tiny room was coloured off white and grey, everything plastic with no metal to be found. Crews hated interrogation, it reminded him of prison, and the only difference being that he could walk away from interrogation; he'd not walked away from prison until after twelve years.

Reese flicked open their case file and pulled out a few photographs and flicked them towards the jittery teen watching him carefully. Evans barely batted an eyelid at the devastation and only stilled at the sight of the large black body bag. Long elegant fingers ran the edge of the photo while stunningly green eyes glistened in unfeigned grief. The kid might be used to the sight of ruined buildings but even he stopped his infernal bouncing at the sight of a dead body.

"What happened, James?" Crews asked, breaking the silence and surprising the boy. "Why did you run?"

"Thought Uncle Vernon might have sent you," James muttered as he sniffled. "Who's wrapped in glad?"

Crews blinked. "What?"

"You know, the body bag, who in it?" James indicated the photograph his expression carefully blank now that he'd wiped away his tears.

"Vernon Dursley," Reese answered carefully, not entirely sure what to make of this kid who jumped between emotions like some kind of drunken sailor. "Can you tell us your relationship with Mr Dursley?"

James flicked his eyes between the two detectives carefully, looking at the way they stood or sat and shifted in his seat as if he wanted to run again. "Ain't got no relationship, not really. Uncle Vernon's a busy guy, you know? What happened?"

"We're still working that out." Crews answered his lightly coloured eyes staring at James with unnerving intensity. "Who hurt you James?"

James stiffened and lifted his chin, "no one."

"You're not lying to us are you James?" Reese asked carefully, not wanting to push the kid too hard.

"No one hurt me," James replied stubbornly not looking at Reese.

Crews crossed the room and slammed his hands on the table, looming over the kid threateningly. "You're lying, James," he continued in that implacable but calm voice he used when he was pursuing something that concerned him. Reese watched the pair cautiously, there was no need to traumatise the kid, but some answers would be nice. "You ran because you thought your uncle sent us, why would your uncle send the police after you James?"

James leant as far away from Crews as he could, his eyes a bit wild behind his thick glasses and he was trembling in fear. "I dunno," James muttered evading Crews' hard gaze. "Just said it doesn't have to make sense, does it?"

Crews smiled coldly, the lines around his mouth deepening while the laugh lines about his eyes stayed smooth. James shivered and tilted his face away. "You know what I think?"

James shook his head.

"I think your uncle roughs you up a bit, when you do something wrong or you annoy him." Crews stated as if he was revealing some big secret and to James, he was, if the terror bleeding through his expression was anything to go by. "Maybe your aunt joins in, maybe she doesn't; but I bet your cousin does."

James stiffened and straightened, fire filling his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about!" He snapped angrily. "I'm no victim, alright? I get nothing done to me that anyone else does!"

Reese closed her eyes painfully, there it was, the admission that Crews had been angling for. The admission of abuse that would spin this case in a whole new direction; she opened her eyes to meet the strangely confused expression of Evans. Evans, the kid with messy black hair and hauntingly green eyes, who was so much smaller than he should be; the teen was far too skinny, how had no one picked up on it? Crews had settled back against his wall, looking oddly satisfied. Reese thought that the Zen mask had slipped enough to reveal the man beneath; a man who was hell bent on justice and truth and who wouldn't let anyone or anything stand in his way to revealing both.

"Yeah?" Crews was saying as he watched the sullen teen. "And what's that, James? A few bruises? A broken bone or two?" Hard grey eyes met stricken green. "But it's all good, yeah? Coz everyone gets a bit beat up now and then, right?"

James' jaw rippled with the force of his anger and frustration, he wanted to set Crews right but knew he'd said too much already. It was so easy to forget that Crews was a cop that he wanted Petunia and Dudley behind iron bars for his abuse and James wondered if the detectives in front of him were angling for Vernon's killer or for the justice that had been denied to him as a kid. Tears stung his eyes and for the millionth time James wanted to run and never return and going by the redheaded cops eyes, he completely understood even if he wasn't stopping. James cursed him.

"Come on James, you know we have them already; we're just wanting the rest of the tale. Seems no one has much good to say about you in your neighbourhood while overlooking Dudley's antics," Reese said blandly to the teen drawing his betrayed expression from Crews to her. It was heartbreaking to see. "So, you gonna tell us nice and easy or are we gonna have to drag this out?"

James stared between the two his mouth open in shock, he knew that there wasn't much choice; Reese and Crews were going to find out it would simply take time and gathering from their tag-teaming operation they had going they were damn good at it too. Anger burned briefly before petering out and swiftly turning to guilt and shame, Evans ducked his head and spilled.

Two hours later Crews came out with a hang-dog Reese at his side, the younger of the two not quite as perfect in her stony faced expression. The glares the duo aimed at the bull pen had many a police officer ducking for cover as Reese and Crews headed straight for Tidwells' office where the Captain and Stark were still holed up and clearly discussing case-work. Tidwell looked up as his two best detectives stalked into his office with blanked expression and barely managed to keep from cursing. Something big had happened in interrogation and Tidwell sure as hell wasn't gonna like it. Reese tossed the case file on the Captain's desk while Crews stopped Stark from leaving the room.

"You're gonna want to stay." Crews murmured to his old partner, Bobby shot the red headed detective an evaluating look before sinking back in his chair and watching the Captain read. It didn't take Tidwell long and he was soon passing the manila folder to Stark looking a hundred years older and sighing heavily.

"You guys sure this is correct?" Tidwell asked heavily his face lined.

Reese jerked her head in an approximation of a nod and Crews fiddled with something in his pocket. Neither was really up for discussing what they'd just heard. Tidwell sighed again and rubbed his face and met Stark's gaze. The father of two felt his eyes burning with repressed tears and rage as he trembled with suppressed need to burn all of those _fuckers_ who laid a hand on the poor boy in interrogation one.

"This case is going to be working in tandem with Social Services," Tidwell determined and Reese nodded while Crews frowned.

"No." Crews denied, cutting across whatever else Tidwell was about to say. "Social Services aren't what the kid needs. He's sixteen, he's not gonna like or accept foster care this late in life. He'll do a runner."

Reese nodded slowly, clearly agreeing with her partner even if she didn't like it. "Crews is right."

"So what do you suggest then?" Tidwell demanded setting his fists on his hips and meeting Crews' bland expression. "That I give him to you?"

Crews nodded calmly, "I think I can keep a watch on him easily enough."

Even Reese shot the redheaded cop a stunned look, her mouth gaping in surprise. Tidwell was clearly against the idea even as Bobby enthused about it. Who better to take care of a kid who amounted to an ex-prisoner than Charlie Crews?

It took another ten minutes of fast talking including various mentions of the break throughs he'd had with Rachael Seybold and revealing that Ted Early and Olivia were coming home before Tidwell even made the slightest hint of acquiescing Crews' request. Finally, as they knew he would, Tidwell crumbled under the force of Crews' Zen mutterings if only to get the loopy bastard out of his office and away from him. Reese was quick to tail her partner as he headed to interrogation once again his face set into a determined expression; this latest case having split them apart and then bound them even tighter once again that even Tidwell, despite his reservations and lingering feelings, joined his employees in speculating just how long it would take for the pair to get together.

Crews burst into interrogation, Reese hard on his heels, and startled Evans into leaping the full length of the room before embarrassment sent the boys gaze skittering away from them. Reese's eyes darkened while Crews just bounced excitedly, the keys to James' cuffs jangling in his hands. Reese watched the pair with exasperated eyes as she listened to Crews expound on the wonders of orange growing while Evans listened almost eagerly. Maybe Crews would be good for the kid; Evans was certainly listening to him despite his traumatic experiences.

"So what's happening? Am I free to go?" Evans questioned as he followed the detectives out into the lobby.

Crews hummed non-committedly and smiled vaguely. "_Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything - anger, anxiety, or possessions - we cannot be free_."

James shot Crews a slightly weirded-out look and shrugged. "Whatever." He muttered and ducked his head as he elevator dinged loudly in the silence. The trio climbed in, two of which were studiously ignoring the third that was humming an unrecognisable tune.

Evans turned to Reese almost worriedly, "Is he alright, you know, in the head?"

Reese cast the boy an amused look, "you're only asking this now?" She asked him barely hiding her hilarity.

Evans scowled at her and crossed his arms, picture perfect of a sullen teenager. "I wasn't worried before."

Reese snorted and shrugged, "don't be, Crew is a bit odd but mostly harmless."

"They say that about humanity too and look at what they've done." Evans muttered and Reese stared at him in bewilderment. What?

Crews shot Reese a grin and bumped shoulders with Evans who staggered slightly. "You ever read that book, Reese?"

"Which book?" Reese asked completely confused.

"She doesn't look like she reads," James observed quietly.

"Reese reads," Crews objected. "Of course Reese reads!"

Reese sighed in aggravation and pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to ignore the resulting non-conversation that was occurring next to her. Honestly, it would just be like Crews to seek guardianship of a boy who was crazier than he was. Reese was openly happy when the elevator doors swung open and they could step out of the confined space that the two boys beside her had filled with meaningless chatter.

The woman at Social Services wasn't happy to see them, her cold blue eyes meeting Crews' grey with dark suspicion and Reese almost felt like pulling out her gun and unloading the clip right there and then. Regardless of who was watching. Thankfully Tidwell had the common sense to call ahead and had cleared everything before they'd gotten there, most of the paperwork having been shunted up to him and before long Crews was escorting a dazed Evans' to his car and guiding the boy into the passenger seat. Reese having split to her own car and agreed to meet up with Crews and Evans at Crews' mansion.

Evans was introspectively quiet the entire trip and Crews didn't break the silence as he listened to his favourite Zen tape for the fifth time that week. James didn't even comment at Crews' odd preoccupation and even seemed to enjoy the calming tones of the man's voice as he read something about how '_we are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps_'. James liked that idea, that everything he had seen, done, suffered had a purpose, even if he didn't know that purpose just yet.

Evans barely blinked at Crews' mansion, his green eyes taking in the two storied, double winged building that was made of a yellowish sandstone, with deliberation. "Nice." Evans murmured sweeping the length of the empty drive; Reese having not yet arrived and Rachael still at college for the week.

"It's a house," Crews said simply looking at the mansion with a curious gaze.

Evans smiled slightly at that and almost chuckled. Crews really was something else, James thought to himself as he followed the redhead up the drive and into the entryway. It was pretty much empty inside, only a black leather couch and a high range TV occupying the space. A large staircase spiralled upstairs to where James assumed the bedrooms were. It was a nice place and for whatever reason, James could feel himself relaxing for the first time in his life as he took in the low-lit atmosphere and met Crew' eyes.

"It's kinda strange," James hesitated, he'd already told this man and his partner more about his life than anyone before; should he really continue? Crews was watching him expectantly though, so James took the leap of faith, feeling himself tumble through the metaphorical air uninhibited by blocks or catches. "I feel…" James paused and shot Crews a desperate look, frightened.

"Safe," Crews finished for the damaged teen in front of him not realising, or perhaps he did, that he'd just caught James from his tumbling free fall through space and now held him securely in his arms. James stared at the redheaded man and felt something inside him break; realising in a flash of shock and no small amount of fear that he trusted Charlie Crews explicitly and whole heartedly. No one had been able to inspire that feeling within him since he was eleven and the one he'd trusted then had shortly betrayed him for another. Could he trust Crews with himself? Should he?

Staring into kind grey eyes James Evans realised that yes, yes he really could and when Charlie smiled at him, James smiled back.

Entering Crews' now more than familiar entryway, her feet making barely any noise on the thick carpet that Rachael had determined that they absolutely 'needed' to liven the empty house up, Reese found Crews and Evans huddled at the island counter in the kitchen. Half full glasses of juice sat at their elbows as they discussed Crews' latest fad in wine growing. The orange grove where Crews had saved Reese was doing well enough now that it barely needed any management and the orange juice coming from the grove was quickly becoming locally famous. Evans clearly knew little about wine growing but the teen looked like he was having fun as he smiled hesitantly at Crews' absent minded teasing. Crews had always been good at putting people at their ease, Reese thought as she took in the tableau. It was good to see the damaged teen resting calmly beside the heavier detective, one foot hooked around the bar stool his head bent close to the papers on the table. Crews kept flicking his eyes from the paperwork to Evans' face, clearly delighting in the boys' obvious enthusiasm at their task.

After the whole 'Neviakov episode' Reese had found herself following Crews home most nights; revelling in the silence that she could find at the mansion and the kindness that she found when she spent time with Olivia and Ted. Crews too, managed to put her at ease, much as he was doing with Evans now in his ridiculously large and state of the art kitchen. And despite everything Reese knew that Crews could do, she felt safer with her crackpot partner than she ever had with Tidwell. Something she found hard to reconcile sometimes, disappearing those days that she felt she was growing too close to Crews and his friends only to return days later with tired eyes and stress lines about her mouth. Not once had Crews indicated his disapproval or unhappiness with this self-destructive habit of hers; simply pulling her indoors and sending her upstairs for a shower and a sleep. Crews attracted strays like the Rolling Stones collected fans, it was all completely incidental but he cared for each and every one of them and Reese found herself incredibly grateful to him.

Crews looked up once more, darting a swift look at Reese who was hovering at the edge of his periphery and then at James who was nervously biting his lip while concentrating on his latest 'money-making' venture. Ted would find the paperwork all filled out and on the kitchen counter tomorrow when he and Olivia visited for breakfast like they did every day. Crews sighed lightly, masking the sound from James who shot him a bright smile that lit his eyes with innocence and happiness. Between Reese who was like a ghost most days, drifting about without purpose and James who was pretty self-explanatory; Crews wondered just what he'd gotten himself into, could he really help them both recover from the disastrous events that had ruined their lives?

"What shall we have for dinner?" Crews murmured as he stood and stretched. Evans lent backwards, swaying out of reach of Crews' long arms as his expression flickering briefly before falling into lines of deep relief. "Shall we have pizza? I'd like some pizza, what do you think Reese, should we get pizza?"

Evans spun around and spotted Reese who hovered just outside the far-reaching light of the kitchen lamp. Crews reached around and flicked the switch to the ceiling light and flooded the room with brightness. Reese winced and slunk into the room, taking the seat beside James and mulishly staring at the counter. She felt off balance and Crews watched Reese and James exchange brief glances before turning to him as though he was the centre of their universe.

"Pizza sounds good." Reese finally shrugged, her eyes skating away from Crews' as she folded in on herself. It was so much harder to pretend that nothing affected her in the dark where the nightmares came alive and truly could hurt you.

James smiled shakily, any progress over the past hour having disappeared like ice on a hot summer's day, and nodded slowly.

"What was that James?" Crews prompted gently, smiling slightly. "I didn't hear you."

"Yeah, pizza sounds good," James said it softly and confusedly. Almost as though he wasn't really sure what he was agreeing to.

"Have you eaten pizza before, James?" Reese asked gently, her own troubles fading as she concentrated on the nervous kid beside her.

James shook his head and evaded Reese's probing eyes. "No ma'am."

"Danni," Reese corrected James quietly her voice the barest of whispers as Crews watched them.

"What?" Evans asked confused, forgetting his nervousness as he looked up and met her eyes.

"Call me Danni, not ma'am." Reese said.

"How come he gets to call you Danni, Reese?" Crews whined plaintively, pretending to be mortally wounded and drawing a wry grin from James.

"Because I like James," Reese rebutted swiftly a trace of her former fire lighting her eyes.

Crews grinned at his partner and pulled the laptop over from the far end of the counter, its black surface having blended in disturbingly well with the charcoal marble counter. Flicking the lid up, Crews frowned as he pressed the 'on' button with an unnecessary flourish. Reese rolled her eyes while James grinned at the red heads antics; Crews, for all his Zen, was remarkably dramatic at times.

"For someone who professes to be 'not attached' to his cars, computers and house, you sure own a lot of expensive things." Reese observed as her partner ordered their pizza's online with triumph.

Crews hummed and shot James a wink, "I might own a lot of expensive things Reese, but I am most definitely not attached to my car." James couldn't help it, he let out a small laugh at the ridiculousness of the argument and Crews shot Reese a broad grin. "Was that a laugh?" He asked her and Reese smirked triumphantly.

"I think it was," Reese agreed.

James blinked in surprise before rolling his eyes in picture perfect teen angst. "I laugh!" He objected plaintively. "But only when things are funny."

"Here that Reese? James thinks I'm funny," Crews snarked at the brunet detective, his grey eyes laughing.

"Clearly he doesn't know you too well," Reese grumbled. "You're annoying and Zen, not funny."

"Zen?" James asked.

Crews' eyes lit up with expectant pleasure before Reese quickly shot him down, "no, Crews, the kid does not need the _Path_ _to_ _Zen_ explained to him, okay?"

Crews pouted but agreed.

The thirty minutes spent waiting for the pizza to be delivered was mostly silent with the occasional comment from James as he tried to integrate himself further in with the red headed detective while evading the dark eyes woman's pointed questions as she pried a little too close for comfort. Reese was growing frustrated with James' evasive answers; she was only trying to help but seemed to be freaking him out more. It was driving her nuts. The doorbell chiming had Crews jumping up in excitement and muttering loudly about the wonders of pizza. James watched the man leave with something akin to panic and only relaxed once Crews returned, barely visible behind the stack of pizza boxes in his hands.

"I think I may have gone overboard," Crews said casually winking at James who stared at the amount of food in front of him with wonder in his eyes.

James didn't need encouragement as he darted a hand forward and snapped up a thick slice of pepperoni. The explosion of meat, grease and cheese in his mouth was by far the best thing James had tasted since the treacle tart made by Ho- his boarding school in Scotland. James' mind shied away from thinking about that place, it wouldn't do well to dwell on things he couldn't have and he took another enormous bite from his pizza slice. Crews and Reese watched the teen with wide eyes, the kid might have been abused to an extreme point but at least his appetite hadn't been affected. Reese counted the teen to be on his third slice as she finished the crust on her first and she wondered if Crews had known that James would be this hungry.

Crews grinned as James made a delighted sound as he bit into a slice of Hawaiian; pineapple on pizza, worlds best invention. James met his eyes and grinned in return, snagging a second piece and Crews was quick to snatch his own, clearly it would be a race to see who could eat the most of the Hawaiian pizza. Reese rolled her eyes as the male bonding going on beside her and stuck to her own smaller vegetarian pizza, picking the mushrooms from the top with a wrinkled nose. James watched Reese removing her mushrooms and frowned, he felt that it was intensely wrong to waste food and was quick to pick up the left overs and shove them in his mouth. He grinned at the dumbfounded brunet and relaxed as she rolled her eyes yet again. Reese wouldn't hurt him, like Crews she was trustworthy. James smiled at the thought.

The after dinner silence was only broken when James let out a massive belch and froze in fear only to watch in shock as Reese burst into giggles. Crews sighed and rolled his eyes at their antics and packed up the empty pizza boxes. The boxes could be recycled tomorrow morning, it was late and he was tired. Ted might protest when he came in for breakfast but Crews was comfortable that the circumstances surrounding this one night of laziness could be forgiven. James sighed contentedly and sprawled across the counter blinking sleepily at the far wall. Reese had her head resting on her forearms and Crews watched her breathing gently before determining that she was awfully close to sleep.

"Come on kids, bedtime," Crews said bracingly clapping his hands once, startling James into an aborted movement. Grey eyes met green apologetically and a large hand gripped the boys shoulder slowly and carefully, long fingers flexing comfortingly. James felt his eyes and chest burn; it had been months since someone had touched him willingly. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Bedtime," Reese agreed with a slight to her words as she sleepily stood.

James mimicked Reese and felt himself be pulled tightly into the crook of Crews' arm as he swayed. It was pitch black outside with barely any stars to see in the night sky. Crews steered the teen through the heavily shadowed entryway, Reese following close behind. James both walked and hauled himself up the stairs, one hand gripping the banister tightly and using the smooth wood as a means of propulsion. Crews watched the kid with no small amount of amusement; each step was followed by a yank of his hands sending the teen stumbling upwards. Reese yawned and blearily shook her head as she reached the landing; she had no idea what had come over her but she was so very tired.

"'Night Charlie," Reese muttered scrubbing a hand over her face as she staggered into the room set aside for her use.

Crews smiled and half waved to Reese as she slipped into her room. James was blinking heavily and Crews steered the boy into a guest room. The cream walls looked bone white in the darkness; it was more than a little creepy to both the ex-con and teen. James stared at the massive king-size bed that took centre point in the room, the rich red bedspread bringing back haunting memories of nights at- NO! Don't think about it. Bitterly casting his eyes away, James smiled half-heartedly at Crews who, noticing the teens sudden sadness, frowned with concern.

"Do you not like it?" Crews asked quietly, "I suppose it looks a bit weird now, but it kinda nice. At least, that's what Rachael told me, she picked everything," Crews rambled disarmingly, knowing that James just needed to be distracted from every crazy thing that had occurred in the past twenty four hours. "I didn't pick it. I'm useless at colours, not like Ted."

James couldn't help but smile broadly at Crews' rambling explanation and sighed as he relaxed. "Its fine, it just reminds me-" He trailed off unwilling to continue. He would have to tell Crews one day, but not today.

"Okay," Crews said understanding that while James needed to talk, today was not the day when he would. "Well, goodnight. If you need me I'm just down the hall."

James stared after Crews as the detective backed out of his room that suddenly filled with looming dark and malicious shadows. Wide green eyes scanned the room for the danger he could feel but nothing came up. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, James relaxed. Shucking his clothing and ignoring the fingers, claws and gaping faces that played out on his pale walls, James climbed underneath his doona and shut his eyes tightly. Morning couldn't come quick enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Paying All Debts

James woke to the sounds of bustling life and he relaxed from his waking thought that the Dursley's were going to get him good when they found him. Crews had promised him that the Dursley's would never see him again and James knew that a man like Crews wouldn't break his word unless he absolutely had to. James was safe here in his cream room with its red bed and warm light. Crews had been right; it was a nice room in the daylight. James sat up, the doona and sheets sliding down his skinny chest to pool about his waist and he stared in surprise at the pile of clean clothing on the end of his bed. It was just a pair of jeans, boxer and a t-shirt but it was clean, which was more than he could say for his clothes from yesterday. His work jeans were only washed once a week and he only had three t-shirts that could be worn to the scrap yard, making James feel filthy even on one of his better days.

After pulling on the fresh clothes after a quick shower in the ensuite which he'd discovered when he'd curiously poked his head through the door adjoining his room, James felt more human and put together than he had in a long time. The clothes were obviously Crews', the length being perfect but the size just that little too large on his skinny frame. James made his way downstairs, trailing the pads of his fingers along the warm wood of the banister and quickly found himself in the doorway to the kitchen. Crews and Reese were already up and dressed, both detectives wearing professional style clothing and neatly presented. They weren't alone though; Ted and Olivia, Crews' friends and roommates were dancing around each other as they cooked omelettes and squeezed fresh orange juice. Olivia was a kind woman with blue-green eyes and red hair that tumbled down her back while her boyfriend, Ted, was darker toned and had iron grey hair with silvery accents. They were a handsome couple in James evaluating eyes and he smiled shyly at them both.

"Morning James," Crews greeted enthusiastically from the far side of the island counter. Reese grunted in greeting, her sleepy brown eyes more focussed on her freshly ground coffee than Crews' latest stray. "Want an omelette?"

James nodded and sank onto a nearby chair and watched as Olivia spun past Ted, stealing a kiss as she did so, and placed a plate with a large omelette in front of him. A glass of fresh squeezed orange juice swiftly following and Olivia gave the stunned teen a sunny smile. James croaked a quick 'thank you' before digging in enthusiastically noting the ingredients that went into the making of his breakfast. Mushrooms, chives, onions and tomatoes decorated the creamy looking egg and as James took a bite he hummed in pleasure. It was very tasty.

"This is great," James murmured to Olivia who grinned brightly.

Ted watched the nervous teen and was reminded of himself when he'd just gotten out of prison. Scared of the world around him, his spine having melted under the weight of everything he had experienced and Ted felt sympathetic to the kid who had suffered what no child should have. "So Charlie told us about you and a bit of what you've gone through and Olivia and I," Ted shot a sappy smile to his love which she cheerfully returned, "well, we're here if you ever need to talk."

James stared at the blue eyed man and felt something in him break, those eyes held no pity, only sympathy like Crews' did. Ted Early didn't care that James was going to be angry, sad and quiet, what Ted Early did care about was James Evans and James Evans felt like he had been sucker-punched in the gut as his breath whooshed out of him. James had trusted people once but those people hadn't cared enough about him to get James out of a bad situation. Charlie Crews had seen and even though he hadn't known James Evans, he had cared enough to take guardianship of the boy to give him a second chance. Ted Early might not like the way that Charlie Crews operated at times, but Ted Early knew something of abuse and neglect, every prisoner does, and Ted Early agreed with his friend that James Evans was someone worth making exceptions for. It was pretty amazing for a teen who until recently had been told that he was useless and that no one could ever love him.

"I-" James' voice broke and he turned from Ted to stare desperately at Crews.

Crews met the pleading green eyes of his ward and nodded slightly. "Don't worry James, Ted understands."

Ted nodded in agreement, feeling as though he'd just cut the rug from under James' feet and given him something far stronger to stand on. Olivia and Reese watched the interaction with sad eyes, Olivia barely understanding what was going on. Despite living with two ex-prisoners Olivia had very little experience with the crueller, nastier aspect of humanity. Reese, on the other hand as a cop, was intimately aware of what humans could and did do to each other; she knew everything that James had experienced at the hands of his 'so-called' family. Reese had also, like Crews had, guessed that James was hiding something further from them; something that when he finally talked, would undoubtable shock them and even cause some troubles for the L.A.P.D. Reese would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to that day, she was still a little bitter and twisted about her and Tidwell's break up. Even if she had been the one to actually say the words, Tidwell should have fought harder against it.

Once breakfast had finished and the plates cleaned away, Crews and Reese left for their day jobs while Ted and Olivia followed James out to the courtyard where the pool was. Olivia had brought out glasses of the left over juice from breakfast and set them on the table before disappearing back inside for her latest crime drama that she was enamoured with. Ted stripped off his shirt, already wearing a pair of board shorts, and settled himself on one of the lounge chairs for a brief nap. Meanwhile James settled himself by the side of the pool and stared at the gently swirling water, watching the play of light across its surface. It looked like liquid diamonds, the light dancing and darting along the surface, beckoning James in. It was a hot day with the sky an impossibly blue stretch across their heads and as Olivia walked back out she smiled at the sight of her Ted lazing on his lounge chair nearly snoring his head off as he dozed and James who was ensorcelled by the ebb and flow of the gently swirling water.

"See anything?" Olivia asked the teen softly as she sat beside him and trailed her fingers in the water.

James startled and nearly fell in only steadying himself with an aiding hand from Olivia. Wide green eyes clashed with calm blue and James sighed heavily, "not really."

"Perhaps you're looking too hard?" Olivia suggested as she stood and brushed dirt from her clothing. "Up you jump, come sit and tell me about yourself."

James blinked bewilderedly and followed the serene redhead who ensconced herself on a wide wicker armchair, her book resting beside the dewy glass of juice on the glass table. James sat on the second arm chair and was quickly drawn into a discussion about animals that he liked and whether Olivia would be able to convince Ted to buy a cat. James felt a rush of affection and gratitude to the woman beside him who considered it the height of fine discussion to talk about dogs and cats and whether Charlie Crews would oppose to her buying a pet. Nearly three hours was whiled away in this manner, Olivia managing to draw several laughs from the teen beside her and smiling with a hint of triumph each time. It was a good way to spend a morning, Olivia reflected as she smiled at James who was regaling her with a tale about two old friends, one of whom owned a rat and the other a cat and the intervening fights that occurred when both animals acted according to their natures.

When Ted finally awoke in a flurry of snuffling and snorting, James was curled up on his chair fast asleep with Olivia reading her book with an eager expression. The sun was at its zenith and Ted could feel his skin peeling under the abusive heat that the yellow orb was exuding. The ex-con staggered upright and hauled on his t-shirt, briefly wrestling with the arm holes that were all tangled up and refused to let his arms through. Olivia let out a little giggle at the sight and smiled warmly at the older man who had stolen her heart with his gentle caring nature and kind eyes. Ted Early was a man who respected her and encouraged her every dream, never doubting her, never denying her opinions and never once faltering in his belief of her or them. Olivia counted herself a lucky woman to have landed such a kind, caring and generous soul.

"How long has he been out?" Ted asked as he picked up the now warm glass of juice Olivia had kept for him.

Olivia cast a brief look at the slumbering teen, noting the dark hollows beneath his eyes and his pale skin, "not long." She replied returning her gaze to Ted's well-worn featured. "He's so tired Ted and he's so worn and sad."

"I know," Ted sighed reaching out to run a hand through her thick red hair, revelling in its silky softness. God but he loved this woman; Olivia had saved him and given him a purpose beyond helping Charlie get revenge. Ted counted himself a very lucky man that Olivia would even look at him, this love he held for her was not the burning passion that he'd held for his first wife but the warm safety that let him know that as long as Olivia was nearby nothing could hurt him. Olivia would protect him from the darkness that haunts the night hours and in return he would protect her from anything that tried to separate them. After everything she had done for him, it was the least he could do.

"I want to help him," Olivia murmured as she sank with a sigh into Ted's side.

"You are helping him," Ted told her, his deep and abiding faith in her prevalent in his steady voice. "Just be yourself, James needs love and security and you can give him that far better than Charlie and I can."

Olivia noted that Ted hadn't mentioned Danni Reese and knew that was because Danni was damaged and hurting herself. Like James, Olivia burned to help Danni but Danni wouldn't help herself and so Olivia had her hands tied. Each time Danni disappeared, Olivia found herself wondering if that would be the last time they saw Danni only to have her turning up days later with dark circles beneath her eyes and ragged clothing. Reese wouldn't even turn up for work on the days that she disappeared and Crews had murmured something about avoidance tactics that led Olivia to believe that Crews expected this of Danni and held nothing against her for it. Olivia only hoped that James didn't run like Danni did, she wasn't sure if she could take sleepless nights while she worried on the behalf two people.

"I suppose," Olivia sighed and she watched as Ted disappeared indoors, undoubtedly to get dressed into something more presentable. Looking back at James Olivia smiled absently, running eyes along the frown lines that even now were present on the teen's relaxed face. Olivia sighed once more as she prayed for some kind of slack given to the people in this house, of them all she was the only who'd had something akin to a normal life. Even the absent Rachael Seybold had lived a life devoid of the security and love that Olivia had once taken for granted.

By the time Ted had returned, his hair still damp from his shower, James had woken and was staring listlessly out at the pool with Olivia obliquely watching him from the corner of her eye.

"C'mon, we're heading out." Olivia said decisively to James' surprise. "Up you jump, Jamie boy."

James hesitantly stood and stared at her in confusion. "What?"

"We're going shopping!" Olivia enthused, clapping her hands together. James groaned. "Now, now, none of that; you need new clothing. You can't go wearing Charlies cast offs all the time."

James sighed and cast Ted a pleading look only to meet amused blue eyes that were unsympathetic to his plight. Olivia led the way out the house, pausing only long enough to scoop up her purse that lay on the table beside the front door; a table that James had missed when he'd first arrived and was now staring at suspiciously. The echo of a rough voice shouted in his mind: '_Constant Vigilance_!' It was rare that he missed things but he'd been tired and sore last night and James wasn't too surprised to see that he'd missed something. Ted was driving and James was bewildered by Olivia's joking comment that had Ted groaning in embarrassment. Why would Olivia feel the need to remind Ted to fill up an already full car with gas? James had thought that cars ran on petrol, not gas but then mu- No! NO! He wasn't remembering, he wasn't thinking of them. He was not going there. Ever again.

Gritting his teeth, James pressed his face to the window of Ted's SUV and ignored the bubbling of his memories at the back of his mind. The blue sky was infested with clouds and James could guess that it would rain tonight; Olivia seemed to agree with him because she was bemoaning the lack of an umbrella in the car. The drive to the mall wasn't long and James soon found himself outside a large shop filled to the brim of screaming children, harassed mothers and the occasional sullen teen who was avoiding their parents with large gaps and long silences. Ted was swift to escape Olivia's determined excitement, slipping away to the nearby Videos, Gaming and Sound department where row upon row of black plastic cases stood wrapped in pretty, colourful packaging all designed to draw the eye of prospective buyers.

Olivia, however, wasn't interested in games, DVD's or music and all the gadgets that came with each genre; she was insistently determined to buy James clothing and was quick to drag the teen to the men's section where she picked out style after style of shirts, jeans and jackets before bundling him into the change rooms to check the sizing. The next two hours were spent deciding whether he preferred boxers or briefs, jeans or cargos or even both, whether he'd wear shorts and what kind and whether he should wear dark colours or pastels. By the end of it, James' head was swimming with an excess of information and Olivia was pushing a trolley load of clothing complete with shoes, socks and jackets for both winter and summer and all the months in between. Olivia had even managed to find James a couple of suits that fit him extremely well and highlighted his Celtic features and luminous green eyes.

Ted met them in the home wears section, apparently beginning to worry at how much of Charlie's money Olivia was spending only to immediately back down when the ferocious redhead snapped at him. James was once again burdened with decision making choices, only this time it was sheets, quilts and thread counts and whether he thought green or red was a better decision for his room. Upon questioning Ted of all this, to his mind, unnecessary fuss, Ted replied that Charlie had noticed James' discomfort in his new room and wanted the youth to be as happy as possible while living with them. James had to look away briefly at that, his eyes burning with withheld tears.

"Just one last thing," Olivia announced as they passed through the checkout. James, who by this time was emotionally worn out, barely held back a groan of despair. Olivia met the teen's tired eyes and smiled sympathetically. "You need new glasses James, when was the last time your eyes were checked?"

James shrugged and adjusted the rims of his glasses self-consciously. "I don't remember."

Olivia's mouth thinned in displeasure and swift marched James to the nearest optometrist and waved Charlie's exclusive credit card that had the sales girl leaping to their aid and slipping them into the nearest spot on the list. While they waited Olivia preoccupied herself with making James try on glasses after glasses, ones with wire rims, ones with plastic rims and one that were square, rectangle, rimless and oval. Some she hummed at looking undecided, while others she shook her head at in disapproval. By the time Olivia had settled on three types she liked it was time for James to have his eyes tested. As the teen followed the optometrist inside the testing area, Ted and Olivia half-heartedly discussed colours and whether the glasses should have full rims, no rims or half-rims.

James returned with a spring in his step and a smile on his face, clearly the idea of getting new glasses was lightly more exciting now he knew he needed them. Olivia had meanwhile settled on a pair of thin black frames that would frame his face nicely without being too different to the glasses he'd had previously. Ted had suggested that the less change James was subjected too, the easier it would be for him to adjust. When James saw the glasses the wide beaming grin that he presented Olivia and Ted was testament enough to his appreciation of their choice.

Weary the trio exchanged looks before as one, heading straight to the food court for a quick snack before heading home with all their purchases. Ted split from Olivia and James long enough to pack everything into the car so they weren't overburdened while they ate. Olivia paused long enough to hand James twenty dollars to buy his food before darting away with a mischievous grin on her face to the nearest Burger King. James smirked at the sight of skinny-mini Olivia pigging out on fast food before choosing a nearby donna-kebab hut, the smell of the rotisseries churning his hungry stomach into overdrive. James waited to order, his eyes fixed on the menu board above his head as he tossed up whether an extra dollar for cheese was worth the expense when someone rammed into his shoulder.

"привет, Potter." A menacing voice cut through his reverie and James snapped his head around to meet the cruel eyes of Alexi Markovic. Markovic was Vernon's contact with the criminal, Roman Neviakov and James had been Vernon's runner when it came to meeting with the cruel Russian gang leader. Particularly when Vernon owed Neviakov money from whatever venture he'd screwed up. James had little doubt that Neviakov had Vernon killed for not paying his debts.

James swallowed heavily, his eyes darting to where Olivia was spinning around in circles, a tray of food in her hands, looking for him and Ted. "It's Evans now, Markovic." James' voice wavered as he stared into hard brown eyes and felt Markovic's hand tighten on his arm.

"You didn't think you could escape us, did you?" Markovic asked mockingly.

"I didn't know I should be running," James blustered, of course he should be running. His uncle was dead, Roman would be looking for his money and James would be expected to pay up.

Markovic shook his head mock sadly, "James, James, you don't want to mess with the Boss man."

James tried to step back, his heart thundering in his chest; but Markovic simply tugged him closer and his friend, who James suspected had been loitering behind him, stepped up on James' other side, effectively blocking his escape route. As the two Russian's led the teen away a voice screamed behind them and James jerked in recognition. Olivia! Struggling, James found himself bound by steel muscles and cruel hands and dragged from the mall all the while Olivia's screams echoed in his mind like a death knell. Was she hurt? Why was Olivia screaming? Where was Ted? Questions bounced around his skull as James continued to struggle, grunts of exertion escaping his lips. Markovic barely panted as he hauled the teen to the back of a black van and threw the kind inside; his men might rough Evans up a little, but the Boss would have him in one piece.

Olivia picked up her tray of fatty fast food and walked to where she had left James, her eyes scanning the food court for a sight of the skinny dark haired teen. Spotting the boy by the donna-kebab hut, Olivia smiled and made to join him when another man bumped into the teen. James staggered only to be caught by the other man and righted. Olivia watched as the two conversed, a sick feeling building in the pit of her stomach and she spun around looking for Ted, desperately hoping that he was nearby to help her. Frustration burned in Olivia when she couldn't find the ex-con and she returned her gaze to James and the beefy looking man who was now towering over him and Olivia felt her face pale when a second man appeared behind James, effectively pinning him in place. Something was wrong.

"James!" Olivia called, hoping that the sound of her voice would drive the pair away only to feel her stomach drop to the bottom of her shoes when the two men started to guide James from the food court. "JAMES!"

The two men were dragging James now as he struggled between them and Olivia could see his shirt riding up his torso as he wriggled and threw himself about. Neither man grunted from exertion and Olivia was practically running now, her eyes affixed on the three men ahead of her. A torso blocked her view and Olivia bounced backwards off a bald headed man covered in tattoos. His hard grey eyes cut like glass into her own and Olivia shivered in fear.

"You don't want to do that, девушка," the man said in a thick Russian accent, muscles flexing threateningly.

"Any why not?" Olivia demanded angrily, fear surging through her blood but it was no longer fear for herself but fear for James. The boy left in her care, a boy she had failed miserably in keeping safe. They should have stayed home.

"Because if you follow the boy, you'll get him killed. Tell Crew that if he wants the boy he'd better release Neviakov."

With that last warning, the man walked away; leaving Olivia standing helplessly in the food court, the tray of food she had bought nearly five metres away where she'd dropped it in her first attempt to save James. Ted found Olivia staring at a glass door, her eyes empty of all emotion like she'd died in the half hour he'd been gone and Ted felt his heart plummet. The feeling only became worse when he managed to coax the story out of Olivia and held her as she cried.

* * *

Crews was in a good mood that morning when he'd exited the house and left for work with Reese at his side. Of course, Reese was driving his car which made him a little sad until he reminded himself that 'he was not attached to this car' and that he really didn't mind. As Reese smiled tightly and triumphantly as she swung around a tight bend, Crews admitted to himself that, yeah actually he was a little attached to this car and he'd really, really like to drive it. Meeting his partners brown eyes that sparkled with life and sheer pleasure, Crews decided that as attached to his car as he was, anything that made Reese happy was worth putting up with. One plus one equals one. Crews smiled.

Their days went well, leads were followed up and a whole plethora of information was turned up leading to the death of Vernon Dursley being generally celebrated once Reese connected the man to Roman Neviakov. No one missed the Russian mobster and every effort was being made by both the L.A.P.D and the FBI to dismantle Mickey Reybourne and Roman Neviakov's empire. So far very little progress had been made as the Russian's had all gone to ground with Neviakov's assets being sold off for bargain-basement prices. Even the FBI's resources were turning up little in the way of leads.

But what made the case really complicated was the eventual discovery that Vernon Dursley had used his nephew as a go between himself and Neviakov. Whether or not James Evans was a willing conspirator to Vernon's laundering enterprise or Dudley's drug running business, his involvement in hiding the knowledge of the two male Dursley's activities from the police would make it necessary for him to be tried in court. Neither Crews nor Reese believe that James had been willing in the slightest but they needed to prove that Vernon Dursley had been holding something above his head to force him to co-operate. Tidwell was cracking the whip over the department as his gut told him that this case would make or break the Neviakov Empire bringing in some good press for the department after the unfortunate leaking that Charlie Crews had been innocent and set up by two celebrated Police Detectives. If Tidwell ever found out the rat there would be hell to pay.

Reese and Crews were still coming up empty on this account by the time afternoon rolled around and it wasn't until Crews mobile went off that Reese had a break through. As Crews answered his cell, Reese froze in abject terror as she read the FBI reports detailing everything the Bureau knew about Neviakov and his gang. It wasn't good news. A man named Alexi Markovic was Neviakov's main enforcer and had a criminal record to match; suspected homicides, assault of varying degrees and other smaller crimes that had brought him to the attention of Roman in the first place. Markovic's buddy was Valentine Ivanov; Ivanov was an illegal immigrant who had grown up with Roman in the backstreets of Moscow. Both men had been seen in the company of a frightened James Evans, there was even a shadowy photo of Markovic pointing a gun as Evans' head. Why the FBI hadn't pulled James out of a bad situation was beyond Reese but she suspected that by the time these photos had been taken Agent Bodner had been under Neviakov's thumb.

But all this information pointed to James Evans being completely innocent; something that had Reese celebrating with a wide grin. Seever and Stark watched the dark haired detective spin triumphantly in her chair and dash over to Tidwell's office. That conversation barely lasted two minutes as Reese was soon dashing back outside and writing up everything she knew that cleared James' name. Crews was still talking but his voice had taken on a wooden tone and was so low and harsh that it was difficult to make out what he was saying. Reese was curious but not enough to interrupt her partner's conversation.

Reese looked up as Crews clicked the 'end call' button on his cell and felt herself freeze once more at the expression on Crews' face. The following three words tilted Reese's world on its axis and she felt the blood drain from her face. Not because she was terrified for herself, no, but because any chance of someone living after this mess had just dropped from fifty percent to zero. And still Crews' words echoed in her mind like the beat of a drum.

_"They have James."_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Saving James Evans

Crews was angry and when Charlie Crews got angry people tended to die. Not innocent people; Crews wasn't a killer of innocents, but he had certainly killed his fair share of people who could easily be termed as evil. People who deserved to die; if you could ever label people as deserving of death. Reese watched her partner pull out all the stops, connecting to patrolling cops, interrogating a Russian hooker he had acquired somehow and calling in a favour from Agent Bodner. Despite all of this pursuit, Crews had yet to turn up the teen he had sworn to protect; and slowly his blue eyes went from calm and passive to raging and furious. Watching Crews, Reese finally found out just what it must have been like to work with him while Crews was dead set on saving her from Roman Neviakov and now it was her turn to be on the end of cold blue eyes and dark frowns. It was frightening but also oddly reassuring.

This was not to say that in her observation of her partner that Danni Reese was sidelined in Crews' pursuit of James Evans' safety; while Crews made his phone calls, Reese nailed every one of her contacts with pointed questions. Not once did she take no as an answer and more than one of her rats walked away from these meetings with black eyes and sore cheeks. Reese's own eyes held the fire that many in her department had thought quenched and more than one both exulted in its return and fled from its savagery. Between them Reese and Crews had turned the L.A.P.D upside down and were now shaking it to see what appeared from its pockets. So far there hadn't been a single break.

It was Tidwell who came up with a surprisingly good suggestion, calling Stark and Seever to swing by Petunia Dursley and pick her up for questioning. It took the newly instated duo an hour to find the horse-faced woman before dragging her down to the station to meet the wrath of Reese and Crews. Crews was sitting at his desk when Dursley was marched in, his tie was loosened and his shirt rumpled and Crews didn't look like Crews as he sat there staring at Evans' file with raging eyes. Reese spotted Petunia Dursley when her partner practically leapt to his feet, triumph flowering on his face and a savage gleam entering his eyes and Reese, as she turned 'round and caught sight of the other woman, felt a grin break out on her face. Gathering from the apprehensive expression on Seever and Stark's faces, not just Dursley's, the faces of the L.A.P.D's best detectives were a mite terrifying.

As Stark and Seever handed Petunia Dursley over to Reese and Crews, Petunia let out a tiny whimper barely able to meet the stone cold eyes of the detectives in front of her. Retreating to Tidwell's office, Seever and Stark watched Crews grip Dursley's arm tightly and steer her into the same interrogation room that they had discovered so much about Evans. Torn between interrupting and watching the show when a large bang sounded behind the closed door; Stark was surprised when Reese stormed from the room in a terrifying fury, her dark eyes flashing and her stride jarring. Whatever had just occurred, not one of the occupants of the Captain's office wanted to know. Shortly thereafter Crews exited his eyes shining with victory and a smile stretching the corners of his mouth. Stark felt his stomach sink to the vicinity around his toes as he realised that a chase, similar to the one that Crews instigated for Reese, was about to be initiated.

Clearly Tidwell was of the same mind because he was suiting up and strapping his gun and badge to his belt with a grim expression. Stalking from his office, Tidwell planted himself beside Crews with his fists on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Saddle up boys and girls; we've got a kid to rescue!"

Tidwell's penchant for dramatics was well known but when he got that stubborn look on his face not one of his officers would gainsay him even when they thought he was being a bit stupid. You didn't mess with Kevin Tidwell when he got an idea in his head and decided to run with it. Crews bent his head to Tidwells level and whatever they were discussing wasn't easily overheard as Reese scowled darkly at anyone who approached the Captain and the ex-con. Stark buckled on a Taser gun and joined the stream of cops exiting the building; he only hoped that Charlie knew what he was doing in getting the entirety of LAPD involved in this mess.

* * *

Petunia Dursley trembled in her seat as she met the cold grey eyes of the redheaded police officer across from her and even though he was leaning against the wall nearly six feet away, Petunia didn't feel the slightest bit safe in his presence. The dark haired woman, Reese, was seated in the chair across from Petunia and was glaring nearly as viciously as he partner. No, Petunia Dursley didn't feel safe but these were the cops who'd booked Dudley with possession and distribution of narcotics and refused to solve the murder of her husband, Vernon. Her dislike and surliness must have shown on her face because Reese was looking particularly satisfied as she stared at Petunia with dark eyes.

"Where is your nephew?" Reese questioned.

Petunia felt a flash of resentment curdle her stomach and she glared sullenly at the woman, "no idea, your lot must have picked him up for questioning yesterday, not my fault if you've lost the little freak."

Crews' nostrils flared like he was a bloodhound on the hunt, satisfaction gleaming briefly in his icy gaze. _Freak_. That was what Petunia had called James; she had known about the abuse, perhaps had even participated in it. Crews now had reason to detain Dursley beyond just suspicion. That admission had been the first nail in her coffin and Crews began to feel as though it wouldn't be the last.

"Where is James, Petunia?" Crews asked in his soft voice, leaning forwards menacingly.

Petunia stiffened and swallowed heavily, she knew where James was likely to be but she wasn't going to tell the cop. "No idea." Petunia lied before a thought lit her eyes. Leaning forwards herself, Petunia smirked cunningly. "But if you're willing to cut me a deal I can tell you what I do know?"

"Cut you a deal?" Reese asked harshly. "Why? You haven't been charged with anything."

Crews stood upright, no longer lounging against the wall. "Unless you should be charged with something," Crews cocked his head in mock thought. "Have you done something wrong Petunia?"

Petunia bared her teeth in primal fear, "not for me, for my son!"

Reese leant backwards in disgust. "You won't help your nephew but you want to pull your son out of prison despite him being a criminal?"

"Dudley did nothing wrong!" Petunia protested, her voice practically overlapping Reese's in her ire and desperation to get her point across. "He was set up!"

"Your son was caught to be in possession of nearly a kilo of dope and crack!" Reese barked. Having been caught using herself, Reese had very limited patience with people who failed to realise they had a problem. Even though, nearly six years ago, she had been one of those people.

"It wasn't him! That stuff must have been planted on him!" Petunia argued angrily. Crews shook his head in disappointment, how James had grown into such a well-rounded kid was beyond him, particularly when his relatives turned out to be such idiots and deadbeats.

"And how do you explain your husband's connection with Roman Neviakov?" Reese demanded.

Petunia at back in confusion, the wind taken out of her sails, "Roman?" She asked as she stared at Reese. "Roman's a good man, he invested in Vernon's new drill company here. Roman set Vernon up as a favour."

Reese gaped at the woman in shock; she couldn't be serious could she? Petunia Dursley's blinkers to the real world couldn't be that bad could they? Shaking her head, Reese stared up at Crews who was stonily glaring at Dursley with his jaw set and his fists pressed tightly to his sides. No help there, Crews was clearly trying to reign himself in by repeating his Zen lessons. Reese wondered if the Zen actually helped. She certainly hoped so because Crews looked like he wanted to let loose and punch the obnoxiously oblivious woman. James had stolen both their hearts last night and neither of them were particularly fond of Roman Neviakov, the Russian mobster had ruined far too many lives to be called a 'good man'. Added to this, were Petunia's complicities in the abuse of James and the forgery and money laundering business that her husband had run; Petunia's activities had collusion written all over them, a lovely legal term that meant that Petunia Dursley was just as guilty as her husband and would be just as easy to charge in a court of law.

"Vernon Dursley did not sell drills Mrs Dursley," Reese barked irately and Petunia jerked backwards at the tone. "Your husband laundered money through a fake company where he then turned the profits over to Roman Neviakov."

Petunia was shaking her head wildly, denial in every line of her body. "No! My husband is a good man with a good job!"

"He helped fund Neviakov's crime empire!" Reese snapped standing above Petunia.

"No!"

Crews watched Petunia's face drain of blood as Reese slapped photo after photo of Dursley and Neviakov meeting, sometimes with James and sometimes without; but each one was as damning as the last. Then there were the photos of Dudley and Neviakov, the younger Dursley hanging out with Russian mobsters, getting a tattoo, shooting a gun in a range that was known to be owned by Neviakov. The FBI had been thorough in their tailing of the Russian gang leader and the files on Neviakov contained more than just Roman and his men but also their known associates and their activities. Dursley had been a lucky find by Homeland Security; his arrival in the country with fast-tracked passports and documents sending up all kinds of red flags. Petunia might have set up camp by the Nile but reality was fast coming home to roost with all kinds of unpleasant consequences.

As Reese continued to shred Petunia Dursley's life one photo and document at a time, Crews watched her reactions. Marking each emotion as it was displayed. Greif, disbelief, anger, shock and disgust were the most prevalent sentiments expressed but Petunia also showed annoyance and jealousy; and it was those emotions that intrigued Crews. Why would a woman who was determined to think the best of her husband and son feel annoyance and jealousy when shown pictures of their dealings with Neviakov? What could the mobster possibly have in common with a house wife like Petunia? There was something they were missing. Something big.

Concerned as he was by what Petunia Dursley wasn't telling Reese, Crews completely missed the shift in Petunia's expression that said 'housewife' to 'potential killer'. Her face was twisted and ugly and Petunia practically launched herself to her feet and made to grab Reese only for Crews to be torn from his introspection and react without thinking further. In Crews' reactive mind he didn't see the housewife anymore as she launched herself at Reese, he saw a threat to his partner and Crews reacted accordingly. One hand grabbed Petunia's arm, spinning her around and wrenching it behind her back, while the other grabbed her shoulder, restraining Petunia against the nearest wall. The movement took less than twenty seconds and the resounding thud of Petunia's head slamming against the wall echoed loudly in the small confined space of the interrogation room.

Reese snarled wordlessly as she stood, not angered by Crews' intervention, but rather by the fact that she had been caught off guard by an English housewife who neither she nor her partner had deemed a threat and so had let their guard down around. Both she and Crews had forgotten the cardinal rule that people were most dangerous when their lives were in jeopardy. However what Petunia had failed to understand, or had perhaps been so angry to forget, was that Crews and Reese were like a well-oiled machine; they often moved in tandem and finished the others thoughts despite being partnered for only three years. In her attempt at assaulting Reese, Petunia had taken her eyes off Crews and so had sealed her fate. The duo now had her for attempted assault of a police officer as well as the list of suspected crimes Crews had put together. There was no doubt now, Petunia Dursley would be going to jail for a very long time.

* * *

James woke in what amounted to a cell; it was dark and the rough cement walls felt like they were closing in on him. The cell was lit by a singular yellow light that swung from a chain attached to the ceiling. The door was all metal; the smooth surface broken by twenty five rivets and had a small window that the guard outside could use to look in on James. James had no idea how long it had been since he'd been thrown in here, the hours seemed to blend together and in an attempt to keep him disoriented the Russians came at irregular hours to question him. Always the questions were the same:

"Where is the money?"

Always James replied: "I don't know."

At the end of every questioning the Russians would rough him up a little and leave him a single cup of water and a mouthful of mouldy bread. James huddled in deep to his bones; he was steadily losing weight and was parched dry from thirst. Every day before going to sleep James would place his hands flat on the dirty floor, feeling the grit and grime rolling beneath his fingers, and pressed his forehead to the floor. He wasn't praying and he wasn't religious but James could feel the magic of the earth beneath his palms and it soothed him to reconnect with his forgotten half. The half he had denied for over a year now. Stuck in a hell hole James sought any and all comfort he could derive in his situation. One comfort that didn't come from his hated half was the knowledge that Charlie Crews was coming for him. James never spoke that knowledge but he believed it with every fibre of his being. Crews would come for him and save him from his captors.

As James pressed his forehead to the dirty floor and sent tendrils of his magic into the ground below him, James could feel the heartbeat of the world surround him. The very air vibrated with the knowledge that one of the Earth's sons was returning home in a far more personal way than simply setting foot in Diagon Alley once more. James loathed the wizarding world, as any person would when they were forgotten about and left for dead by the very people they had sworn to protect and serve. The ground shifted beneath the palms of his hands and James slowly sunk his fingers into the cement, connecting to the soil beneath him. Inside his chest his core throbbed to the time of his rapidly beating heart, a thrum of life and magic that had connected to his soul and very being in a more intimate manner than James had ever known to be possible.

As James drew his hands from the floor his sharp hearing picked up the sounds of shouting and gunfire. Crews had come for him. The metal door opened and a tall man with black hair and dark eyes entered behind him stood Markovic and Ivanov, both toting AK-47's and grim expressions. James felt his breathing cease and his heart rate increase as icy fear flooded his veins. He was trapped in a cell with three Russian mobsters; the likelihood of him walking from this situation alive had just decreased dramatically. The three Russian's exchanged a harsh conversation as they watched the teen kneeling in the middle of the cell; James was filthy and his eyes were wide and shining behind his thick glasses.

"You failed to mention that you had your guardianship taken over by Detective Crews," Markovic said to James, his eyes gleaming coldly. James blanched, not Crews, they couldn't hurt Crews! Markovic cocked his head as he and Ivanov stalked into the cell leaving the other man to guard the door. "Tell us his weaknesses, Evans, and you might get out of here alive."

James couldn't help it, his hero-complex kicked into overdrive and he stood with his fists clenched and shook his head. He would be damned to hell before he sold Crews out. Charlie wouldn't sell him out after all. Gritting his teeth as Ivanov levelled his gun at his chest; James kept his frightened but determined gaze on Markovic who he assumed to be the leader in this situation. Markovic, however, tilted his head to keep the other man in sight and waited, as if for a signal.

"Stand down, Valentine, Alexi." The man said as he stepped forwards, pulling out a Sig Sauer from the small of his back. "Boy, do you know who I am?"

James shook his head and felt his heart plummet as Markovic and Ivanov stepped up to his side and grabbed his shoulders to stop him from ducking. Voldemort had nothing on these men. Voldemort had never made James feel as vulnerable and terrified as these Russian gangsters did. James felt like throwing up.

"I am Nikolai Neviakov, and Charlie Crews killed my brother." Nikolai cocked his gun with a sharp gesture before smoothly raising it to point it squarely at James' forehead. "You _will_ tell me _everything_ you know of Charlie Crews and you might walk away."

James felt like his heart was about to burst, Roman had a brother? That sadistic bastard had a fucking _brother_? James was too far gone in his fear to notice that spending time with Detective Reese had taken a toll on his vocabulary. Staring into flat grey eyes that were as icy as Roman's had been, James admitted that Nikolai Neviakov was every bit as scary as his brother had been.

"Roman's dead?" Was the first thing that James said his mouth running ahead of his head and not for the first time would it get him in trouble. Nikolai frowned at the teen. "You're Roman's brother?"

"Answer the question Evans," Markovic prompted as he tightened his grip on James' arms. "Tell the Boss about Crews."

James shook his head and squirmed, "I don't know anything, I swear!"

Nikolai shook his head in mock sadness. "Not the answer I was looking for трус."

James felt his heart stop and as Markovic and Ivanov turned to hold him to the wall and Neviakov took a shooters stance, the click of a gun cocking sounded incredibly loud in the silence. James' eyes travelled past Neviakov to meet the icy blue stare of Crews who looked beyond furious. Behind Crews stood Reese, Tidwell and Stark; Seever was hanging back hesitancy in her stance and eyes. Seever didn't want to become a killer, no matter who it was for. Markovic swung around, lifting his gun even as Neviakov lunged forwards and swung James around to cover his body, the Sig Sauer pointing at Crews who had already shot Ivanov in the chest three times. Reese shot once, the bullet travelling through Markovic's brain and leaving him with a stunned expression on his face as Markovic, Roman Neviakov's lead enforcer, realised that he was already dead before she pulled the trigger.

James was arched backwards, covering Neviakov's body with his own. Blood was hot and wet on his face and body; the sticky congealing mess dripping from the thick strands of his hair and James could taste the coppery tang on his tongue. Crews was still pointing his gun at Neviakov while Reese was flexing her fingers in a show that told James louder than words that she really wanted to bury a bullet in Nikolai's head. Nikolai was breathing hard and his heart was racing against James back, Neviakov was terrified and clearly trying to think of an escape plan. Despite being in an awful situation, James felt safe and he could feel the tension in his muscles melting away at the sight of Crews' implacable face.

"Hand him over," Crews demanded his eyes like ice and his voice like death.

Neviakov smirked cruelly and tightened his grip on James' throat making the boy shift slightly but otherwise he gave no indication of his discomfort. James' eyes never left Crews' face, certain in his safety, trusting the redheaded cops assurances made nearly seventy-two hours ago in a kitchen too big with gadgets too new. "Will you give yourself to me, Detective Crews, if I give the kid to you?" Neviakov asked curiously his dark eyes also never leaving Crews' face, but for entirely different reasons. "Is this boy truly so precious to you that you would hand yourself over for him?"

"Yes." Crews' answer was instantaneous and without hesitation. James let out a sound of protestation only to be cut off by Neviakov's cruel grip around his throat.

Neviakov smiled viciously. "Excellent."

Crews walked forwards after handing his gun to Reese who watched the interaction with frustration and impotent anger. As Crews entered within Neviakov's range, James was tossed aside and Crews was spun around and took James' place as Neviakov's body shield. This time, however, the gun was pointed at Crews' head and not at anyone else. Tidwell gritted his teeth and gestured for Reese to grab the traumatised kid and leave. Crews had given them strict instructions to do as he said and to not interfere. Had it been Reese, Tidwell knew that this would be a lot easier to protest against; after all Reese could protect herself but James was a kid and a scared one at that. Charlie Crews would be damned to hell before he left James in the lurch.

James was dazed from his head hitting the ground but he was aware enough to notice that the police taskforce was backing up and leaving Crews alone with Neviakov. Terror filled him as James felt Reese's restraining arms around his chest and stomach, pulling his resisting body along with her as she abandoned her partner to a Russian mobster with a grudge against him. It was like the Ministry all over again. Instead this time, instead of Sirius, it was Crews. Instead of his godfather it was his new guardian. Instead of the man he'd known briefly for two years it was the man he'd known for two days. And yet, to James Evans, Charlie Crews was as important as Sirius Black had ever been to him and James Evans was never going to be someone who could leave another man behind.

Shoving Reese backwards and shrugging her hands off his wiry body, James flung himself forwards, ignoring Reese's horrified cry. James ran hard and fast down the corridor they'd just left and spun into the cell he'd been kept in only to find it empty. Anger filled him and James dashed from the room in a terrible fury. Green eyes scanned the hallway, taking in the swinging yellow lights and metal pipes that ran the length of the hall. Nothing, the place was completely empty. Rage filled him and as it did so, his core surged. Magic filled his chest, burning along his veins and whipping up the stale air into a tornado-like force that whipped at his clothing and hair making him appear fey and wild to Reese's stunned gaze.

Burning eyes lit with magic scanned the hallway and this time James saw the pathway that Neviakov had taken with Crews as his hostage. The tall teen spun around and sprinted down the hall, never hesitating in his path as Reese let out a startled cry and followed him. James raised his hand as he approached a locked door and with a surge of his wildly fluctuating magic, sent the metal panel spinning with a loud bang. Neviakov startled from his angry interrogation of Crews and stared at James. To the Russian's eyes it was as though an avenging angel had come to earth. Green eyes blazed with unconcealed power and wind whipped wild black hair revealing a lightning bolt scar carved into his forehead.

James met Crews' puffy eyes and felt a rage that he'd never known since the loss of Sirius. The urge to shred, to kill, to _hurt_ had never ridden the teen so hard in his life and energy crackled all around him. Crews watched as Neviakov reacted with all the instinct of prey in front of a predator. Raising his gun, Neviakov let loose and shot at the boy, emptying his magazine. Crews' let out a shout of horror only to stop in shock; the bullets were _bouncing_ off James, not even bruising him. James regarded the bullets as an elephant might regard a fly and smiled at Neviakov with cold intent. James might have failed his godfather but he would not fail Crews. _Never_ again.

James breathed out to centre himself and raised a hand, energy arcing between his fingers as he did so. The energy built up rapidly and coalesced into a ball of blinding green light. Wizards had forgotten their origins; they had forgotten that Magic was not spells, motions and gestures. No, Magic was intent and focus and as James looked at Crews' bruised and puffy face he felt his intent solidify from desire to _need_. It was this need that granted him the focus to do what many wizards would consider completely impossible.

James let out a savage grunt and loosed the ball of green light from his hand and sent it careening into Nikolai Neviakov's chest. The Russian's surprise lasted mere moments as the energy lifted him from his feet and sent him hurtling into the far wall where he crashed and slid into a heap upon the floor. Neviakov would never rise again. James let out a small sigh of surprise as his energy levels dropped dramatically and he sank to his knees, breathing heavily. Crews watched in continued shock as Reese darted forwards, bracing the teen against her as she checked him over.

"Crews," James prompted, avoiding Reese's concerned hands.

Reese scowled at the teen but did as he suggested, darting over to her partner and untying him from the chair that Neviakov had lashed him to in the half an hour he'd been missing. Crews grunted as he stood; touching a hand to his split lip and black eye. James watched the two detectives embraced and took a step back as Crews stepped forwards. James' eyes were wide as he took in the shock, wonder and awe that were present in Crews' eyes; just what had he done? He'd done magic in front of a muggle; the Ministry was going to _kill_ him.

"James?" Crews murmured taking in James frightened expression. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" James asked incredulously staring at the redheaded detective. "I'm not the one that got beat up!"

Crews smiled at the teen and stepped forwards and pulled him into a tight hug. "You saved my life."

James managed a shrug in reply, his eyes wet with tears. "I already lost my godfather, didn't wanna lose you too."

Crews hugged James tightly, feeling the teen shake like a leaf in his arms. Sniffles and snuffles sounded from where James had his face pressed into his chest and Crews pressed his own face into James' messy head. They would be okay, they weren't right now but they would be. For now, James needed rest and food. The teen had been skinny two days ago but was now malnourished and painfully thin almost to the point of being emaciated. Reese watched Crews hug the boy and talk to him, whatever they were saying was beyond her. Whatever it was soothed James enough that Crews was able to let him go and smile at the kid. Reese felt her weariness in every bone of her body and she sighed heavily as she joined the two boys and even allowed Crews to pull her into a tight sideways hug. Everything would be fine.

"I could really go for an orange." James noted the memory of Crews exuberantly talking of his organic orange grove suddenly prominent in his mind and as Crews grinned brightly down at him, James felt a wave of safety and contentedness wash over him. Everything was gonna be just fine.

* * *

Russian Translations

Привет: HelloДевушка: GirlТрус: Coward 


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